Ballistic Trauma
by Miles333
Summary: Reid is shot. The experience is more painful than he anticipated.


**Disclaimer:** _Criminal Minds_ isn't mine. Very depressing.

**A/N:** For anyone out there who enjoys Reid whumpage as much as I do. *evil grin*

**Summary:** Reid is shot. The experience is more painful than he anticipated.

**Timeline:** Somewhere near the end of season two.

**Spoilers:** _The Big Game_, _Revelations_.

* * *

"_Have the courage to live. Anyone can die."_

_-__Robert Cody_

* * *

"It's locked," Morgan muttered, rattling the doorknob of the warehouse.

"Do you think he's even in there?" Reid whispered back, tense as he waited for action.

It was all up to him and Morgan now. The man they were currently after had waited until the others had gone off on a wild goose chase he had installed, then made the phone call to summon them to the abandoned warehouse.

Jonathon Summers was nothing if not insanely clever, which Reid couldn't help admiring. The man had managed to evade authorities for over a month, even though he had brutally murdered his wife and daughter, then raped and killed three other women. Just that afternoon, he had kidnapped the daughter of a major Quantico politician. He was a very sick individual.

"I know he is," Morgan said, flipping open his cell phone for the tenth time in the past thirty minutes and speed-dialing Hotch. "The man laid a trap for us, Reid, and he's not going to just walk away without following it through. He wants the satisfaction of ending this right here and now."

"That's not exactly reassuring," Reid said.

Morgan closed his phone and slipped it back onto his belt. "They must still be out of range. We're gonna have to finish this ourselves."

"I was sort of afraid you were going to say that."

Morgan drew his gun and waited for Reid to do the same. Then he steadied his stance and kicked the front door of the warehouse as hard as he could. It exploded open, and Morgan leapt inside, turning swiftly in all directions to check for danger. "FBI! Jonathan Summers, we have a warrant for your arrest!"

Reid followed Morgana inside, senses on high alert. He gripped the handle of his weapon so tightly that his knuckles were white. His gaze roamed quickly over the towering stacks of wooden crates that filled the otherwise empty warehouse, then he moved to cover behind one of the stacks. Morgan followed suit, providing cover by making sweeping movements with his gun.

"Anything?" Even Reid's soft whisper sounded loud in the eerie silence of the building.

"Let's split up. You go right, I'll go left," Morgan said quietly, pointing out the aforementioned routes with his gun.

"I don't know about that. The last time I split up with someone, things didn't exactly go to my favor," Reid said.

Morgan paused to pat the younger BAU agent on his shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. Nothing's gonna happen to you while I'm around, okay? I won't let it. Now let's catch this son of a bitch and find Gina Lodges."

Reid nodded slowly, then watched as Morgan disappeared around the stack of crates, the murky darkness closing around him. Then he cocked his gun and headed in the opposite direction.

The uncovered light bulbs that hung from the ceiling above made all the shadows seem large and threatening. Reid tried not to flinch as they converged around him, making him think of what had happened to him in a certain cornfield but a few months earlier. He silently told himself that he was perfectly safe, even though he didn't really believe it.

He continued to circle around the edge of the building, nervous gaze flickering in every direction. He took slow and steady steps, careful not to make any noise or stumble. Accidentally shooting himself in the foot or showing Summers where he was inside the large room was the last thing he wanted or needed.

"Aaaaaaaaagents!" came a singsong voice; it seemed to ring out from all directions. Reid immediately froze, whipping his head around and making sure that Summers hadn't somehow snuck up on him. Chills ran up and down his spine. "I know you're both here somewhere!"

Morgan's voice crackled to life over his plastic earpiece. _"Be careful, Reid. This guy's pretty far gone."_

"I've noticed," Reid answered dryly, in a low voice.

"I assume you're both here for the lovely Ms. Lodges," Summers continued loudly. "She's alive, I can assure you. And I think she's more than ready to go home…_if_ you two are ready to make a deal. If not, I kill her. Simple enough?"

Reid touched his communicator. "Morgan?"

"_Don't do anything. He's just trying to psyche us out."_

"Don't waste too much time talking amongst yourselves, agents. My patience grows weary!" The voice was much closer this time

Reid chewed his lower lip, thinking of the profile the team had come up with just hours ago: _"Jonathon Summers is an explosive sadist. He also experiences mild borderline personality disorder. He gains extreme pleasure from watching others suffer, and won't stop once he gets started. Given the opportunity, he has the potential to injure civilians in order to draw out other pawns in his game of pain."_

"Come to a conclusion yet?" The voice came from just ahead of Reid's position, and he crept silently forward. Peering between a precarious stack of cardboard boxes, he saw Summers standing in a large empty area in the middle of the room. He held a blonde woman by the arm, a coldly-glittering gun pressed to the side of her temple.

"Put the gun down and step away from her!" Morgan emerged from a stack on the other side of the open space, gun pointed directly at Summers. His face was expressionless.

Reid quickly did the same, firmly raising his own gun and stepping from his hiding place. He swallowed hard and averted his eyes from the torn state of Gina Lodges' clothing, along with the blood smeared across some of her exposed skin. She was crying silently, black trails of smudged mascara running down her cheeks. Reid didn't want to think about what had been done to her since she had been taken hostage.

"_There_ you are," Summers said pleasantly, turning so his back was away from both of them. "This is almost like a _party_, isn't it?"

"Drop the gun, Summers!" Morgan shouted, voice ringing out intimidatingly.

The sadistic rapist chuckled without humor. "Do you really think I'm that gullible? I'm not going to just give myself up!" He pulled the gun a fraction of an inch from his victim's head to wave it through the air.

"What do you want?" Reid said, wetting his lips.

"Right now, I want your muscle-bound friend to put down his gun. Then I want _you_ to come over and take Ms. Lodges. While all this is taking place, I'll leave through a conveniently placed back door."

"Not gonna happen," Morgan said immediately, gun unwavering from its target.

"No? Then I'll kill her." All traces of amiability evaporated from Summers' face as he pressed the barrel of the gun against Gina's face again. She whimpered in fear, knees buckling. Summers forcefully jerked her into a standing position again.

"Wait!" Reid quickly bent over and placed his gun on the concrete floor, without taking the time to think over the consequences of his actions. "Don't hurt her."

"Reid–" Morgan began in a harsh voice.

"I know what I'm doing!" Reid shot back at him, firing an expression at him that he hoped showed his determination to do the right thing. And he _did_ know. He was going to try to save an innocent woman's life.

Summers was sneering now. "_One_ of you has the right idea," he commented. "But I'm sure you both know the rules that allow a pair to tango."

Reid sent Morgan a pleading look, hoping it conveyed the urgency of the situation. It apparently did, because Morgan's lips moved as he swore silently, then he slowly bent and lowered the gun to the floor. He never took his eyes from Summers.

The man chuckled again, loosening his grip on the woman. She fell to her hands and knees, legs too weak to support her weight. "So wise, the both of you. Now come on over, _boy_," he said, directing this to Reid.

Reid once more looked to Morgan, who looked less than happy with the situation, then started forward, ever-so-slowly. He held both hands up by his head and tried to seem as nonthreatening as possible. Summers didn't say a word, watching him come with a cold smile curving his lips. The silence was thick with tension.

After what felt to Reid like an eternity, though probably less than a minute passed, he stopped beside the woman. Gina looked up at him with watery eyes, silently pleading for him to save her. Reid looked towards Summers, who said nothing, then slowly grabbed Gina's arms. He pulled her carefully to her feet, wrapping one arm around his neck and supporting as much of her weight as he could. "It's going to be all right," he said to her.

"I'm afraid not," Summers said. He moved forward with surprising speed, shoving Gina aside. She fell to the floor with a muffled cry before Reid could assist her. And then Summers pressed the gun to Reid's forehead. It felt cold and deadly.

"Don't do it, you son of a bitch!"

Reid couldn't look away from Summers, who loomed up into his face. His eyes were wide and decidedly maniac, crooked yellow teeth showing from between his lips. He swallowed hard, throat working with the movement, and tried his best not to move. He also tried to breathe as little as possible.

"Put that down, agent," Summers said, which made Reid assume Morgan had picked his gun back up. He didn't dare turn around to find out. "Or I'm afraid you're going to lose your teammate to a _very_ unpleasant death."

"Let him go!"

"Morgan, it's okay," Reid said.

"Shut up," Summers growled, pressing the gun even harder to Reid's forehead. It was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling under the pressure. "Now, your unfortunate friend and I are going to walk out of here. You're going to stay here with Ms. Lodges."

"Not a chance."

"Are you sure?" Summers paused for a few seconds, and Reid imagined Morgan nodding firmly. "Hmmm, a pity. You've just sealed his death, I'm afraid."

Even though Reid knew what was coming next, it was still a shock. In what seemed like slow motion, Summers pulled the trigger. Reid twisted away at the last second, just before the bullet could explode into his brain. He dove towards the ground, and for a minute, he thought he'd escaped unscathed.

Then he felt the excruciating burning. It was rapidly spreading throughout his entire body, but seemed to be centered on his left arm. He hit the concrete hard, breath slamming from his lungs, and locked his lips tightly together to hold back a scream of pain.

He vaguely heard Morgan shouting, and the sound of a gun firing. The loud noise inside the cavernous room made his throbbing head feel like it was splitting open from the inside. He wanted to cover his ears, try to block out the thunderous sound, but his arms didn't want to cooperate. In fact, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. Blackness was swirling around the edges of his vision, and dizziness spiraled through him.

There came the sound of running footsteps, then Morgan was leaning over him. "Reid! Reid, you okay?"

He tried to reassure Morgan that he was perfectly fine, but all he could manage was to nod woodenly. He looked down at his arm, the source of all his terrible discomfort, and blinked a few times with surprise. Blood was everywhere. His skin was slick with it, and it already coated the concrete. He could see a round hole near the center of the flood of blood, and something metal glinted just inside the wound. How could something so small cause so much pain?

"Spencer, talk to me! Can you hear me? I'm calling an ambulance, so just _hold on_!"

_I'm fine, Morgan._ Or so he tried to say. No words came from his numb lips, though something wet did. It tasted vaguely like salt, and a quiet part of Reid's brain grimly told him that it was blood. Which couldn't be good. But for some reason, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

He had the sudden thought that he was about to die, and wished briefly that his life hadn't been extinguished so easily. It would be like he never even existed.

But then the blackness swallowed him whole, and he couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

_..._

...

...

...

...

...

When Reid woke again, he found himself lying on a bed, a steady beeping all around him. He squinted into the dim fluorescent lighting, and briefly studied the featureless white walls. That was all he needed to see in order to realize where he was: a hospital.

He slowly sat up, grimacing in pain. There was something sharp in the crook of his elbow, and his eyes widened. Whipping his head around, he felt a surge of horror at the sight of the IV protruding from the soft flesh of his arm.

Reacting quickly, he used his free hand to grab the needle, tearing it from his arm and tossing it aside. Crimson blood welled up. He swallowed hard at the gruesome sight, blinking to clear the blurriness of his vision. The next obvious step was to gauge an escape route. He looked around wildly.

"Reid? Kid, calm down."

The young genius glanced towards the voice, noticing for the first time that the door was wide open. Morgan stood there, holding a steaming paper cup. Garcia was just behind him, bright red lips forming an O of surprise.

"Morgan, what's going on?" Reid croaked, embarrassed when his voice cracked.

"I'm _so_ glad to see you awake, sweetie," Garcia crooned, emerald heels clattering on the tile as she rushed over. "I was so worried! Derek just called and said you'd been hurt, and that you were both on the way to the hospital. I had to contact the others as soon as they got cell service again, and they're on their way." The blond finally paused for breath, allowing the chance for someone else to speak.

Reid just stared. "Morgan…"

Morgan stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. "It's going to be okay. The rest of the team had to deal with some things, but they're on their way now."

"What happened? Where are Summers and Gina Lodges?"

"Summers is on his way to jail as we speak. And Gina's going to be just fine."

"Good. Good." He noticed the pristine white bandage on his left arm, and his lips parted as blurry memories suddenly flooded into his mind. "He…shot me?" The words brought back that horrible pain he'd felt, Morgan's urgent shouting. A nightmare.

"It shouldn't hurt too bad, muffin. The doctors gave you something for the pain," Garcia cooed comfortingly, patting his unbandaged arm.

Reid dimly heard the beeping speed up, but didn't pay much attention to the disconcerting noise. "_What_? What did they give me? Morgan, how could you _let_ them? There was pain medication in that IV, wasn't there? Oh God." He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed, to stand up, but his weary body just wouldn't cooperate. He instantly regretted the movement as white, hot pain drilled through his shoulder.

"Calm down, cupcake," Garcia said, gently pushing him back into bed. Then she froze, for the first time noticing the blood where Reid had jerked out his IV. "Reid, what did you do to your _arm_? Morgan, get a doctor or something, quick! He's _bleeding_!"

Morgan quickly put his coffee down, sensing a developing situation. "Okay, both of you need to _calm down_. Garcia, why don't you go out to the waiting room and wait for the others? I'm going to talk to Reid for a minute." He patted her shoulder encouragingly and waited.

She sighed heavily, glancing back and forth between the two men. "Um, okay. Anything for you, sweet cheeks." She gave Reid a final, slightly nervous look, then hurried from the room.

Reid took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Morgan, what did they give me?" he whispered.

Morgan sank into the plastic chair beside the bed. "It's morphine," he said after a small pause, deciding to be honest.

"Morphine is a potentially highly addictive substance. It can cause physiological dependence and physical dependence as well as tolerance, with an addiction potentially identical to that of heroin," Reid bleated, paling as he finished speaking. He hadn't intended to mention the A word; it had just kind of slipped out.

"Listen up, Reid. You're gonna be just fine. I made sure they gave you the lowest dose possible. I've got your back."

Reid slowly sagged back against his stack of pillows, the frantic beeping of the monitors slowing. He winced in pain, trying to move his arm as little as possible. "Thanks. Um, for…you know."

Morgan nodded. "No problem. Now what else aren't you telling me?"

Reid looked startled. "What do you mean?"

"I can tell by your face. What's up?"

He averted his eyes, idly fingering the corner of his blanket. It was silent except for the steady beeping and the quiet murmur of voices in the hall. He finally mumbled an answer, without looking up.

"What?"

"I screwed up. I wasn't thinking, and it got me shot." Reid looked up, and his dark eyes were haunted. "I ignored your direct orders."

"Don't think like that."

"Why shouldn't I? If I'd thought it through, none of this would have happened."

Morgan's features softened. He leaned forward and clasped both hands together. "Hey, don't do that."

"If I'd listened to you–"

"If you'd listened to me, Gina Lodges would be dead. Summers would have killed her, right there in that warehouse."

Reid swallowed hard. "I don't–"

"You're gonna have one hell of a scar once that heals," Morgan said, gesturing to the bandage, "but you should wear it as a badge of honor. You got it saving a woman's life."

The smallest of smiles curved his lips. "Thanks, Morgan."

"Anytime, kid, anytime."

The door burst open again, and Garcia peered around the corner. "They're here!"

"Thanks, mama." Morgan pushed his chair back and stood. "Remember what I told you just now, Reid."

He nodded jerkily. "I will."

The others came in at that moment, right on cue: JJ, Gideon, Hotch, Prentiss. They all looked relieved to see the youngest member of the team conscious.

"Spence." JJ hurried over, face nearly splitting under the strain of her enormous smile. "We were so worried."

"I'll be okay," Reid said bravely, remembering what Morgan had said about his wound being a badge of honor.

Prentiss ruffled his hair, then her mascaraed eyes zeroed in almost immediately on the fresh blood. "Reid–"

"He's fine, Emily," Morgan said.

"I'll go get a nurse," JJ said briskly, striding from the room.

"I'll come with you," Garcia squeaked, trying her best not to look at the blood. She quickly followed JJ from the room.

"How's the arm feel?" Hotch asked.

"Like someone jabbed a fireplace poker under my skin," Reid admitted.

"Shouldn't you be hooked up to an IV?" Prentiss questioned pointedly, eyeing the blood.

"Reid's strong. He's okay," Hotch said firmly.

"That was a stupid thing you did," Gideon said finally.

Reid nodded meekly. "Yeah, I know."

"Stupid, but brave."

"He's right. You did good, Reid." Hotch smiled briefly, looking like a proud father.

"Just think it through a little better next time," Prentiss teased. "Try to avoid getting near the business end of a gun."

"Hopefully there won't be a next time. Though, statistically, eighty-one people are killed each day by a gun in the United States. In 2004, 29,569 people died from gunshot wounds. 11,624 of those deaths were homicides, while 16,750 were suicides."

"You don't have to worry about dying from a gunshot wound anytime soon, kid. I'm not gonna let you," Morgan said decisively.

"Thanks, Morgan."

"I'm really glad you're okay," Prentiss said.

"We all are," Gideon added.

Reid couldn't help smiling slightly. It felt good to know that so many people cared about him. They weren't just a team; they were family.

**

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**Did everyone seem in character? I'm not entirely sure, since this happens to be my first fic in the _Criminal Minds _category. ****So please be sure to tell me what you think, all right? You'll get your own illegal copy of Dr. Spencer Reid… *puppy dog eyes***


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